FIC: Start of Something Good ~ Star Wars ~ Teen ~ Chapter 2/3

[batsutousai]

Title: Start of Something Good
Series: Make a Brand New End
Fandom: Star Wars
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Alternate Universe, Qui-Gon Lives, time travel, jedi families, canonical character death, we stan Mace Windu in this house, the clones deserved better, Jango deserved better, character with PTSD, the Kaminoans are the worst, mentions of child experimentation, Force-sensitive clones
Summary: When Feemor warned the Council that a jedi had died, he couldn't have known what they would uncover. (Even if he kind of had.)

A/N: I read—well, listened to, tbh—Shatterpoint between finishing the last chapter and starting this one, so if Mace's characterisation seems at all different, that's probably why.
I'm slowly working my way through the prequels era books, now I'm back at my hell-job and have 6-9hrs a night I'm on my feet with my hands busy. That said, I've been warned off the books by Karen Traviss, so while I may borrow some things from those, as gleaned via the wiki, I'm mostly making up the early days of the clone project as I please. XD

There is some minor Mando'a use in this chapter. Most (if not all?) of it should be pretty self-evident, but I've put in hover text, and I'll throw in a translation bit at the end of the chapter, for those on mobile or who otherwise can't see the hover text.

Cross-posted to Archive of Our Own and LiveJournal.

Chapter Two: I'm Gonna Say What I Need to Say

Kamino, as Feemor had promised, was very, very wet. It had also made up a large number of the coordinates he'd taken from Sifo-Dyas' shuttle computer, which made rather a lot of sense, and he was starting to wish he'd taken the time to look through them a little more thoroughly. Not that it had mattered, since they'd had the necessary information readily to hand. (And, in truth, had he made it back to the Temple without any leads, the coordinates would have been sifted through and held against their records. As soon as Kamino had pinged as one of the places Dooku had attempted to delete from the records, it would have jumped to the head of the list to be checked out.)

When Mace's appearance had been enquired after by the planet's system and he'd declared himself as the Head of the Jedi High Council, he was given coordinates to a landing platform at Tipoca City and told someone would meet him inside the facility.

So, upon landing, Mace pulled his hood up over his head, double-checked he had a rebreather (just in case), and hurried out into the storm and across the landing platform to the doors he could just make out through the rain, which opened automatically at his approach.

Inside, he found a long, curved hallway in stark white, and a tall, long-necked being waiting for him. "Master Jedi," they said in an vaguely feminine voice, inclining their head slightly, "welcome to Kamino. I am Taun We, the prime minister's aide. May I request the reason for your visit?"

Mace pushed his hood back off his head and bowed. "Greetings, Taun We," he replied politely. "I am called Mace Windu." Since they hadn't used his name, he could only assume they hadn't been told it, though he had introduced himself when initially contacted. "Master Sifo-Dyas has died, and the Jedi Council was only just made aware of his project with your people. I've come to observe this project and report back to the Council."

"I understand," Taun We said, then motioned along the hallway, saying, "You will need to speak to our prime minister, Lama Su, for permission to observe the project."

Mace raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue; he suspected Taun We simply didn't have the power to give him permission to view anything more until he'd spoken to the prime minister. (It was very similar to how the Temple would react to an unexpected visitor, or someone who was there to visit with a jedi who was on probation or unconscious in the Halls.) "Of course," he agreed.

Taun We led the way through the curved white halls, sometimes broken up by windows showing the constant storm outside, to a room with another tall, pale-skinned Kaminoan. "Prime Minister, this is Jedi Master Mace Windu," Taun We explained to the new Kaminoan. "He has come to observe the project."

"Prime Minister," Mace greeted with a bow. "Unfortunately, Master Sifo-Dyas died without passing along much information about this project, beyond that he had requested an army of clones and that another, now former, jedi assisted him in procuring the necessary funds. I, and the rest of the Jedi Council, would appreciate any information you might be able to give me."

"Of course, Master Mace Windu," the prime minster agreed evenly, their voice masculine, and motioned for what appeared to be a chair to draw up for Mace to sit in. "If you will be willing to wait, I will call Ko Sai, the chief scientist of the project, to join us. She will have much information I do not."

"Of course," Mace agreed, and settled in to wait in the offered chair, as Lama Su moved away to activate a comm unit, and Taun We exited the room. The chair, while extremely odd in appearance, was one of the more comfortable ones he'd suffered over his career, the inside made of an unfamiliar material that had sufficient give to cushion even the most bony species, while not being so soft as to let him lose himself in the give.

Once Lama Su finished their comm call, they joined Mace in a chair of their own, and proceeded to answer what questions they could until Ko Sai arrived and took over.

From what Mace was told, Sifo-Dyas (and Dooku), had commissioned three million clones—Vode, Mace couldn't stop from thinking whenever one of the Kaminoans called them clones or, worse, units—to be ready in ten years for the Republic's use, under the jurisdiction of the Jedi Order. Basic training information, as well as the human template, had been given with the necessary funds to cover all three million Vode. The 'template'—because the Kaminoans couldn't even refer to a non-clone as a sentient being deserving respect—had requested the first of the Vode to be completely unaltered and given to him to raise as his own.

"Unaltered?" Mace had asked, eyes narrowed.

Their growing speed had been doubled, of course, Lama Su explained, and some unwanted qualities, such as allergies, were removed from the DNA they were using. They'd also added genetic markers for beneficial qualities, such as greater stamina and obedience, so they would both be able to keep up better with the jedi, and be more inclined than the 'template' to follow orders.

Mace had just been about to ask about the 'template'—the Mandalorian bounty hunter Feemor had mentioned, he assumed—when Ko Sai had joined them and took over the explanation, delving almost happily into the technical details.

When Ko Sai mentioned the increased ageing, Mace interrupted, "The ageing, can it be reversed?"

Ko Sai blinked. "Well, yes, presumably. But I cannot imagine why that would be necessary."

"Because these are sentient beings," Mace said, voice gone tight, reminding himself, silently, that Feemor had warned him the Kaminoans didn't see the Vode the same way any jedi would. "They have a right to the fullness of a human lifespan."

Ko Sai blinked again and opened her mouth to reply, only for Lama Su to interrupt, "As you say, Master Jedi. Ko Sai will look into a way to reverse the ageing." And then they switched to a language Mace didn't recognise at all, the words rapid and spoken with that rasping sibilance that many reptilian species' languages seemed to share.

As Ko Sai replied in the same language, Mace made a mental note to see if they had any resources for the Kaminoan language that could be uploaded to personal pads or a protocol droid, for those jedi who remained on Kamino.

"Yes, of course," Ko Sai told Mace, inclining her head.

Most of her technical details left Mace's head spinning, just a bit, but he did ask for clarification on some points, including the various changed qualities. Most of it sounded very like requests in the best interests of soldiers meant to be working with jedi, while lacking access to the Force themselves, or an attempt at genetic perfection, which Mace could almost understand—he knew a number of jedi who had got eye surgery so they didn't have to wear glasses, which would be a hazard in a combat situation—but he did have to ask, "And those that don't meet your exacting standards?"

"They will be terminated," Ko Sai promised.

"They will not," Mace returned firmly.

"Master Jedi," Lama Su said with the air of a politician attempting to win Mace to their side, "Kamino prides itself on delivering only the best products. Surely you can understand why we wouldn't wish to offer deficient product."

Mace lifted his chin and met the prime minister's eyes. "Jedi philosophy disallows the needless sacrifice of any and all life," he replied flatly. " 'Deficient' or otherwise. Understand me, Prime Minister Lama Su: The Jedi Council did not make the choice to deal with Kamino, that choice was made by a master who has since died; if we discover that this army being created in our name is being done in such a manner as to insult our ways and philosophies, we are not beholden to honour any deals made with your people.

"We intend to see these...clones–" calling them Vode wouldn't make sense to the Kaminoans, he was certain "–every single one, survive to maturation, and those who cannot serve the purpose of soldiers will be slotted into other positions. If we discover otherwise, we will withdraw our support and our order, and you will be forced to find another client for those clones already born."

A heavy silence fell over the room, Mace staring down the Kaminoans with the icy glare that had terrified many a Temple youngling over the years. (Depa had once told him it made him look like he was plotting the focus of his glare's murder. Or impending, abject humiliation.)

Finally, Lama Su agreed, "We understand, Master Jedi."

Mace inclined his head. "Then I hope you will also understand why the Jedi Council will request residence for jedi on the premises, to ensure there are no...mistakes."

"Of course," Lama Su agreed, and while their tone didn't change, there was a definite sense of irritation in the Force from both Kaminoans. "We would be delighted to host jedi."

"I'm pleased to hear that," Mace said, and made a mental note to ensure that any and all jedi who served as overseers on Kamino were made aware that their presence wasn't entirely welcome. Not that that had stopped the Order in the past, when they believed their attendance was necessary for the sake of peace or the preservation of life, but it was something that they preferred to know going into such an assignment.

He turned to Ko Sai. "Are there any of the clones I might see now?"

Ko Sai seemed somehow stiff, though the impression was more in the Force than obvious in her appearance. "I regret that the first batch are not yet sufficiently grown to be removed from their incubation tubes, although they should reach that point in the coming days, if the master jedi wishes to observe the process?"

"I would," he agreed mildly.

Lama Su let out a quiet, almost musical sound and inclined their head. "I will have Taun We show you to quarters for the duration of your stay," they promised. "If there wasn't anything else you wished to enquire about now?" Something about their tone suggested they should very much prefer that Mace didn't have any further questions or comments.

Mace considered that, then inclined his head. "I had wondered about the...template, you called him? The one the clones are based on."

"A bounty hunter called Jango Fett," Lama Su replied carelessly.

Mace froze, his blood almost seeming to have turned to ice in his veins at the name. "I'm sorry," he heard himself say, voice just shy of too tight, "but did you say Jango Fett?"

"Yes. You are familiar with him?"

"We've never met," Mace admitted, "but I know of him."

Yes, of course Mace knew of the only Mandalorian survivor of the battle at Galidraan. He'd only just joined the Council when that particular massacre occurred; he wasn't likely to forget any of the relevant details, nor the name of the survivors.

Sifo-Dyas, he thought at the deceased master, what have you done?

"I will have Taun We introduce you," Lama Su decided, evidently unaware of the potential situation of having someone who had sworn vengeance on the whole of the Jedi Order in the same place as a member of the Jedi Council.

"Of course," Mace agreed, uncertain how to avoid the meeting without arousing suspicion, and aware that such a meeting would occur sooner or later; better him, now, than to spring this mess on one of those jedi who relieved him.

Taun We didn't take long to arrive, once Lama Su summoned them, and Mace left the room and the two tense Kaminoans behind. He wished he could say it was a relief to get away from their strained Force senses, but he knew he was soon to be in a far more strained situation.

Taun We led him, once again, through the curving white halls, until they reached a new, non-descript door, which they tapped a button just to the side of. After a moment, the door slid open and revealed a dark-haired, brown-skinned man with sharp eyes that took in Taun We with a brief flicker before focussing on Mace, casting over his tunics and cloak, and narrowing, rage and violence filling the Force around him.

Before Taun We could introduce him, Mace bowed and said, "Mand'alor Fett."

"Jetii," Fett replied, ice in his voice.

"This is Jedi Master Mace Windu," Taun We said, sounding just the slightest bit perturbed. "He has come on behalf of the Jedi Council to observe the project."

"Imagine that," Fett said, voice low and hostile stare meant for Mace alone, "a jetii sticking their nose in the business of others."

Mace raised an eyebrow at him. "By all accounts, Mand'alor, this...'project' is jedi business."

Fett's jaw clenched at his title, something about him almost seeming to flinch away from the use of it, and Mace frowned at that, just a little, even as Fett snarled, "You're not wanted here, jetti."

"Jango!" Taun We chided.

Mace held up a hand to her. "He has his reasons for his hostility," he said flatly, "and I respect that. But you will need to get used to seeing jedi, Fett," he told the Mandalorian. "You, of all people, should understand why the Council wishes to have all of the possible information before committing to an event that might result in the deaths of multiple sentients."

Fett muttered something in what Mace suspected was Mando'a, and he had little doubt it was insulting. In Basic, he said, "Good for you, you've learnt something." And then he stepped backward, touching the wall to the side of the door, and it hissed closed between them.

"I...apologise for Jango," Taun We said, sounding almost stunned. "I have never–"

"There is bad blood between him and the Jedi Order," Mace interrupted mildly. "As I said, I am aware of and respect his hostility. I am certain the difficulty can be worked around for so long as both he and any jedi are in residence."

"I do hope so," Taun We settled on, then seemed to shake themself and asked, "Have you need to return to your ship?"

"Yes," Mace agreed. "I need to contact the Jedi Council and collect my things."

Taun We inclined their head. "Then, with your agreement, I will show you to your landing pad and have someone wait for you to come back inside to show you to your lodgings."

"That sounds most acceptable, thank you, Taun We."

They inclined their head again, a faint note of pleasure winding through their Force presence, then turned and led the way back to the landing platform his ship was parked on.

Mace wasn't particularly surprised when his comm was bounced to Yoda—it truly had been luck, that he'd ever managed to call in during a meeting, without planning for it in advance—and he ran through all the relevant information with the Grandmaster, certain he was being recorded, so Yoda wouldn't have to remember every little thing.

"Trouble you, something does?" Yoda asked once they'd gone through everything he'd learnt about the Kaminoans and the Vode.

Mace sighed and nodded. "The one the Vode are clones of is Jango Fett."

Yoda's ears went up in surprise. "Warn us of this, Feemor did not."

Mace shook his head. "It's possible he didn't know Fett's history. Wasn't he on a long-term mission during Galidraan?"

"On Umbara he was," Yoda agreed, sounding almost tired. He let out a long, heavy sigh. "Into our considerations this must go, for those to remain on Kamino."

Mace nodded. "I don't believe any of the Galidraan survivors would fit our criteria, but we'll have to send people with thick skin. And probably someone who speaks Mando'a." Although, really, they had already been talking about that; given that Feemor had said the Vode had been referring to each other with a Mando'a word, it wasn't a stretch to think they might have been taught more of the language. Not that many active jedi spoke the language, however, given Mandalore's long history of civil wars and their distrust of jedi.

(Mace had been a little too amused at the realisation that Qui-Gon, Kenobi, and—presumably—Feemor made up a depressingly large percent of those jedi. It was almost a pity they couldn't really send Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan on a long-term mission, in keeping with the promise to always have at least one of them on Coruscant for so long as Feemor was serving as Palpatine's advisor, because they very likely knew at least as much as the Council about the Vode and the dangers awaiting them, which meant they wouldn't need to be read in, the way someone outside the Council or that lineage would need to be.)

"Discuss it further we will," Yoda decided. "To call back, a good time there is?"

"I actually don't know what time it is, here," Mace admitted, looking out at the sheeting rain. "If this would be a good time, I can call in at the same time tomorrow."

"Late it is, but acceptable this time is," Yoda said, and Mace suspected the Grandmaster wouldn't hesitate to harass other Councillors until they dragged themselves out of bed, if necessary.

"Then I'll comm in tomorrow. Hopefully with a better idea of what might be expected of someone remaining on Kamino."

"Agreed. To say, have you anything else?"

Mace considered that for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I believe that's everything of import for the moment. May the Force be with you, Yoda."

"With you, also, Mace," Yoda returned, and the transmission ended.

Mace stared out at the rain for a long moment, then turned and went to collect his go-bag. Once he had it packed back up—he'd been in living on the ship for far too long not to have unpacked some things—he hid it under his cloak, then raced out into the storm and back into the building, where an unfamiliar Kaminoan was awaiting him.

They led him to a sparsely furnished, and still very white, set of rooms not too far from the dock his ship was on, for which he was especially grateful. Before they left, he asked about a tour of the facility and was told that would have to wait for the morrow.

Rather than argue, he inclined his head, thanked them for the guide, and settled in to record a more thorough report of his visit to Kamino so far, for archival purposes, then decided to get some sleep, once he'd found a chrono with the local time and determined that it was a reasonable time to do so; Tipoca City, it seemed, wasn't that far off from the time at the Temple, which was something of a relief.

BREAK

He received a tour of the facility the next day, led around by one of Ko Sai's aides. He was shown the room hosting the incubation tubes, where nine tiny foetuses were curled up, on the verge of coming out into the world.

"Only nine?" he'd asked the aide, Ni Timor.

"A test run," a voice that wasn't his guide's snapped, right before a new Kaminoan stepped into the room, a datapad in one hand and a glower so obvious on their face, Mace didn't need the Force to read the expression. They turned to the aide and demanded, "Who is this and why is it in my lab?"

The aide inclined their head, embarrassment loud in the Force, and explained, "This is Jedi Master Mace Windu, here to observe our progress. You should have received notice he would be coming."

The new Kaminoan let out a grating noise and stepped up to a console, back to them. "It's observed, now it can leave."

"Of course," Mace agreed mildly, to save his embarrassed guide from having to argue their right to be there.

Ni Timor waited until they'd left the lab before saying, "I apologise for Orun Wa, Master Jedi. He is always...brusque."

"I understand," Mace replied, because while that had been the most hostile one of the Kaminoans had been openly, he could feel a low-level hostility or disinterest from nearly all of them, through the Force. Ni Timor, thankfully, was one of the more welcoming of their people, which was likely why they had been designated Mace's guide. "If I may, however, why such a small test run? I had received the impression that cloning is something your people have been doing for so long, you are the galaxy's foremost experts."

Ni Timor puffed up a little bit with pride at the compliment, which had been Mace's intention. "We are, yes," they agreed. "But, have you never found, Master Jedi, that a single element may change an entire project?"

Mace considered that, how two nearly exact copies of the same datapad could have slightly different shatterpoints, or how there were various and wildly differing ways of approaching negotiations with various species, and nodded. "Yes," he said, and then, "Ah," as he realised the point Ni Timor was dancing around. "The act of cloning different beings can have very different outcomes, and you won't know how different until you've made your first attempt."

Ni Timor inclined their head. "The initial test was twelve," they said, a hint of pity in their Force presence, though Mace suspected it was aimed more at Orun Wa and the other scientists, than for those Vode who had died. "It is almost certain we will lose at least one more before they're ready to be decanted."

Mace swallowed down a burst of rage at the loss of life, reminded himself that not every unborn child would make it to their birth, and gave the anger to the Force; he couldn't hold the failures of initial experimentation against the Kaminoans, no matter how much their callousness for the lost lives hurt. "I understand," he said, and the words tasted bitter.

Ni Timor went on to talk about the next step of the project as they showed him to a room with quite a few more tubes than the first lab. "Once we have learnt what modifications will and will not be accepted, we will do a secondary test of one hundred."

Mace nodded along, staring out over the small sea of incubation tubes and not sure he wanted to know how many of the one hundred were expected to die before they could be born.

He was eventually left with the material the Kaminoans had for developing a training programme for the Vode, and he settled in at the console he was waved to, reading over the materials and wishing, almost inexplicably, that Feemor was there, since he would know best how the Vode would work with the jedi and each other.

At the Council meeting that evening, he passed along the information he'd been allowed to take. Unsurprisingly, Oppo wanted to look it all over, and Mace was beginning to suspect the Thisspias would be their choice to send to Kamino, as he was far more tactically-minded than the majority of the Council, and his way of thinking could only be a boon in training this unasked-for army.

When Mace requested the information also be forwarded on to Feemor, for his thoughts on the matter and any wisdom he might wish to pass on, Yoda promised to see that his great-grandpadawan got it. (Apparently, Feemor had got used to having tea with Yoda in the future, which Yoda had agreed to taking up as a weekly practise, as soon as Feemor had mentioned it; Mace honestly couldn't tell if this was Yoda's way of reaching out to a part of his lineage he thought needed his help, or if he was himself in need of tea partners. Either way, it was in equal parts heartening and heartbreaking; they were, perhaps, the two jedi most familiar with the loss of friends and members of their lineage, and that had to be a comfort, to have someone to converse with about such topics.)

They made plans for him to comm in again the next evening, then Mace signed off and retired to his room for the night.

BREAK

The next day found him in the lab with the—now only seven—active incubation tubes. Orun Wa was nowhere in the vicinity, so he'd felt secure in getting a closer look at the near-infants, and had eventually settled in to meditate, letting the quiet warmth of the seven lives soothe the tension that had been plaguing him almost since Feemor had first comm'd him.

One of the seven felt ever so slightly wrong in the Force, and Mace reached out to him, trying to soothe the hurt.

"What do you think you're doing in here?!" a voice shouted, breaking him out of his meditation.

Mace opened his eyes and looked up and up at Orun Wa. He blinked at him, then turned to the tubes and pointed to the one that had felt wrong. "That one," he said, "there's something wrong with them."

Orun Wa scoffed. "There's nothing–"

Mace turned a hard stare on the Kaminoan and said, tight and just barely resisting the urge to use the Force to make the scientist care, "There. Is. Something. Wrong. Do you really care so little for their lives?"

Orun Wa stared at him, a sense of a sneer in his Force presence, for a long moment before he stepped forward, tapping at the control panel on the side of the tube. The panel let out a low beep, and the Kaminoan was no longer so dismissive, was pulling out a comm and hissing something in their language into it. "Get out, jedi," he said once he'd shoved it back away. "You'll only be in the way."

Mace could sense three beings approaching with speed, so he bowed and took his leave, stepping out of the way to let the three Kaminoan scientists hurry past him when he saw them in the hall.

There was little else he could do.

BREAK

Confirmation that the Vode would survive came from an unexpected quarter: When Mace stepped back inside the facility after his comm with the Council, dripping with rainwater, he found Fett waiting for him, arms crossed tight over his chest and a scowl twisting his mouth.

"Mand'alor Fett," Mace greeted mildly.

Fett's arms tightened over his chest and his scowl deepened. "Jetii," he snapped back, no more welcoming than the last time he'd spoken to Mace. "Why the kriff did you do that?"

Mace blinked. "Do what?" he asked, honestly confused about the question. Go out into the blasted storm? Comm the Council? Call him Mand'alor?

"Save the clone."

"Ah." Mace folded his arms behind his back. "He'll survive, then?"

Fett glared at him, but bit out, "Yes, they found the genetic instability in time."

"I'm glad."

"Are you?" Fett demanded, taking a threatening step forward.

"Yes." When Fett just scoffed, Mace added, "Fett, despite what you think of us, I did not come here to watch the Vode die."

Fett stiffened, a wariness in his eyes. "Vode," he said, voice gone flat. "Why call them that?"

Mace cleared his throat, barely stopping a wince; he hadn't meant to use that word with anyone outside the Order. "That is what another jedi calls them," he admitted, because he very much doubted he could brush off that tongue slip. And, honestly, lying to Fett could only do them more damage, in the long run, especially if whoever replaced him made the same slip later on.

"Why?" Fett demanded, somehow imposing, despite Mace having nearly ten centimetres on him.

Mace took a moment to consider his answer, before saying, "I'm sure you're aware that cloning isn't particularly...legal, in the Republic."

Fett sneered. "Really?" he said, just a hint of a sarcastic edge to his voice. "I had no idea."

Mace hummed. "Calling them 'clones' didn't sit well with him, given that, so he's been calling them 'Vode'. He said it means 'brothers', and is that not what they will be?"

Fett seemed to almost...soften, somehow. "Yes," he said, and there was still a harshness to his voice, a refusal to grant even a moment of grace. But, too, there was something in his eyes, something Mace would almost call love.

Inexplicably, Mace was reminded of Feemor, of the broken look in his eyes when he'd shouted them down over Skywalker, telling them the war had decimated his lineage. And, yet, he'd seemed so warm and bright with Wangui, like her existence eased the loss he carried.

Somehow, he thought Fett and Feemor might get along, connected by a loss no other jedi—save, perhaps, Yoda, who had lived long enough to watch generations of jedi live and die—could ever hope to understand.

And then Fett shook his head, any hint of softness leaving him as he narrowed his eyes. "Tell me, jetii, if the Republic is so against clones, why order an army of them?" he demanded.

Mace couldn't stop his shoulders from tightening. "We didn't," he said, voice coming out flat. "One jedi master took this action without permission; we only discovered it because of his death."

Fett frowned. "Tyranus is dead?"

Mace frowned right back; there was something almost familiar about that name, but he couldn't quite place why. "Tyranus? There is no jedi by that name. The one who dealt with the Kaminoans was Sifo-Dyas."

Fett's brow furrowed, confusion and a redirected suspicion easing his hostility. "I don't know any Sifo-Dyas. Tyranus was the one who bankrolled the hit on that chakaar jetii and gave me this job once she was dead."

"Explain that," Mace ordered, struggling with the rage that filled him at the news that Fett had killed another jedi. And had been paid to do so by someone pretending to be a jedi.

Fett smirked at him. "Oh?" he said, taunting. "I'm sorry, jetii, did you forget who–"

Mace had him by the throat and slammed back against one of the stark white walls almost before he realised he was about to do it, Force reaching out and stilling the Mandalorian's hands before he could grab for the blaster he wore openly. "I don't need you, Fett," he snarled, because they didn't. The Kaminoans surely had enough genetic material to get on with their work. And, if they didn't, they would simply scrap the project all together, and damn Sifo-Dyas, or find someone else to take Fett's place.

How many jedi had they missed the deaths of? How many others were merely assumed missing, as Sifo-Dyas might have been, while their murderer walked free?

"Vosa," Fett bit out.

Mace let him go, surprised enough to push back the anger that that been trying to overwhelm him. "Vosa?" he repeated.

"She got what she deserved," Fett snarled, rubbing at his throat. "She was one of the ones at Galidraan, laughing as she slaughtered my people."

Komari Vosa, Dooku's former and repudiated padawan. She'd left the Order immediately after Dooku had refused to finish her training, and Mace couldn't recall having heard hide nor hair of her in...years.

Fett let out a sharp cough, then muttered, "I didn't even kill her; Tyranus finished her off."

Tyranus. Why was the name familiar? Why had he wanted a washed out padawan killed? What did he have to do with Sifo-Dyas and his army? With Dooku?

Mace was turning around and rushing back out into the rain to his ship almost before he'd finished making the connection between Vosa's death and Dooku's part in the army; could Tyranus be some sort of alternate name Dooku was using?

The person who answered his call was far too short to be the intended recipient, and her eyes widened as the holo cleared as much as it could, saying, "Master Windu!"

"Padawan Wangui," Mace replied in as bland a tone as he could manage with his mind racing, needing confirmation from the only person who might have answers. "Is your master in?"

"Yes, please wait a moment," she agreed, then vanished from the visual pickup, calling, "Master! The Council is calling!"

"The Council?" Feemor replied, amusement in his voice. And then, after a beat, "Master Windu?" he asked, though he didn't appear in the visual.

"I need a word, Master Feemor," Mace said.

"Ah," Feemor said, and then, "Wangui, bed."

"But, Master–"

"What was that? It sounded like you were requesting another three hours of meditation."

The girl let out a loud, unhappy sigh. "I said I was sorry," she said, just loud enough for the audio pickup, and then, louder, called, "Good night, Master Windu. Good night, Master."

"Good night, Padawan Wangui," Mace replied.

"Good night, my precious padawan," Feemor said, warmth in his voice. Only once there was the sound of a door snicking closed, did he say, "Video, Master Windu?"

Mace rubbed at the headache that had started brewing before he'd even made it to the ship. "Who is Tyranus?" he demanded.

There was a moment of silence, and then Feemor slid into the seat in front of the comm console on his end, resolving into a blue figure on Mace's console. Mace couldn't quite keep from wincing when shatterpoints multiplied in the air around the small figure, and Feemor raised a pointed eyebrow at him, then sighed. "Tyranus is Master Yan's sith name," he said quietly.

"Sith?" demanded a voice from behind Mace.

Feemor stiffened, his eyes going wide and a little haunted, Mace saw before he turned to find that Fett had come aboard the ship and was leaning against the opened doorway of the cockpit, his eyes narrowed. Mace was a little ashamed that he hadn't noticed the Mandalorian following him.

"Dar'jetii, in the most literal sense of the word," Feemor said from the console, a very faint shake in his voice. "Jango Fett, I presume," he added as Mace turned back to his image, trying not to tense at the thought of having Fett at his back.

"Yes," Mace agreed.

And then Fett was stepping up next to him, into the visual pickup, and Feemor's eyes shot to him, considering, calculating. "Tyranus is a dar'jetii?" Fett demanded. "He called himself a jetii. A jedi," he added, sliding a glance at Mace.

"It's possible he was, at the time," Feemor said, ignoring the byplay. "He only left the Order a few weeks ago. Although..." He rubbed at his chin, gaze going distant, looking into the space between Mace and Fett.

"If he was willing to delete information from the Archive when he left, he must have already Fallen," Mace said grimly; that had certainly been the consensus the Council had reached, between Master Nu's report about the attempted deletion of planetary systems from the Archives and Yoda passing on the message from Feemor that Dooku had Fallen the last time. As much as the Council hadn't wanted to believe such of a respected master, the evidence—and their trust in the validity of the future Feemor had suffered through—was damning.

"He didn't feel Fallen," Feemor said, but he sounded tired, his shoulders slumped.

Mace sighed, feeling what was likely a very similar exhaustion weighing on his own shoulders. "If Dooku was the one to pick Fett, that makes far more sense," he admitted.

"Why?" Fett demanded, suspicious, his gaze flicking between Mace and Feemor's hologram.

Mace glanced at Feemor, uncertain how to answer that, if it was even wise to answer that, but Feemor was watching Fett, gaze sharp. "Why?" the elder jedi asked, voice quiet and low. "Because he was at Galidraan, too. He led the jedi forces."

"Feemor," Mace cautioned.

Fett had gone stiff, rage bubbling around him in the Force, and he snarled out a string of Mando'a, words Mace didn't doubt were curses.

Feemor flicked a quick look at Mace, one that said, 'Trust me', and then said something in Mando'a, the words sounding far more careful, less fluid than when Fett spoke.

Whatever he said, it shut Fett up. He still felt angry in the Force, but cautious, too, hesitant.

"Who do you hate more, Jango Fett?" Feemor asked quietly. "The man who led the slaughter against your people—misguided or no—or the people he's actively working to betray?"

Fett's eyes cut to Mace, something in them Mace couldn't quite read, anger still too thick in the air around him, clashing with blooming shatterpoints as they stumbled into a turning point.

"The enemy of my enemy?" Fett asked, just a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"If you like," Feemor agreed, careless. "Or you could think of it as picking between a man who would enslave millions of you and force them to fight for a cause that isn't theirs, and the people who will give their all to keep the Vode safe, up to and including our own lives."

Fett was still staring at Mace, and Mace stared back, fought to keep the steadily growing pain of his headache off his face. He didn't know what the Mandalorian was looking for, but when he raised his chin and turned back to Feemor, shatterpoints winking out around them as he made his choice, Mace had the feeling that he'd found it.

"He means the army to kill you," Fett said, flat and cold, and Mace looked back at Feemor just in time to see him flinch, something haunted crossing his face. "To track down and blast every last jetii until there's none left."

Feemor's eyes went wide, horrified. "The screaming," he breathed out.

"The Force, it screamed, Masters. Not like a warning, but like it was in pain," Feemor had said, back on Naboo, and Mace felt a chill going down his spine, the same as it had back then.

"Master?" Wangui's voice called. "Master!" And then she was in view of the visual pickup, reaching out and grabbing Feemor's shoulder before Mace could think he should probably stop her.

Feemor flinched away and twisted to face her, tears dripping down his cheeks as his sudden movement upset them. He stopped halfway to reaching for his lightsabre, staring at his padawan, whose own eyes had gone wide and afraid, hands jerked away and held up as though in surrender.

"Feemor," Mace called, keeping his voice firm, steady through a force of will. "Do you know where you are?"

Feemor swallowed, the knob of his throat bobbing with the motion. "Temple," he breathed. "Wangui, I, I'm sorry, I don't–" He turned back to the comm, gaze flicking over Mace before landing on Fett, and then he flinched back, squeezing his eyes shut and starting to curse in at least three different languages, from what Mace could recognise.

Wangui turned wide, scared eyes to Mace, even as Fett stepped back, out of range of the visual pickup. "Master Windu?" she whispered.

Force, Mace wished he or another Councillor was there to run interference. Instead, he was days' travel away and most of the Councillors were probably abed, leaving Feemor with only his young padawan, who clearly had no idea what was going on, why her master was shattering in front of her because of a comm call.

"Padawan Wangui," Mace said in his sternest voice, and she straightened, turning to him with a flicker of relief passing over her face, "I am going to hang up in a moment, and you are immediately to comm the Halls and have someone come with a sedative."

"I don't need a karking sedative!" Feemor snapped.

"Master, you haven't slept since Ace and Vega left on mission almost a week ago," Wangui said, just a little hesitantly.

Feemor's insomnia was one of the worst-kept secrets of the Jedi Temple, so Mace couldn't say he was particularly surprised by that. It was also the entire reason sedation and sleep had been the first solution to come to mind.

Feemor opened his mouth, only to shut it as the sound of a door opening came through the audio, followed by Kenobi's voice calling, "Feemor? Wangui, is he okay?"

Wangui shook her head, even as Feemor insisted, "I am fine."

"Master Windu said to ask the healers to sedate him," Wangui reported.

Kenobi snorted. "Right." A personal comm entered the visual pickup, and Wangui caught it with a surprised look. "You go call them."

"I do not–" Feemor started as Wangui made her escape.

Kenobi entered the visual pickup, dressed in a sleep tunic that looked a little rumpled, like he'd been in bed before he'd appeared in Feemor and Wangui's flat. "Pretty sure you have to listen when the Head of the Order tells you to take a nap, big brother," he said drily, before turning to Mace and giving a short bow. "Master Windu, was there anything else you needed with Feemor, or can whatever it is at least wait for morning?" he asked, while Feemor muttered something unhappily under his breath, then sighed and drooped against Kenobi's side.

Kenobi looked surprised for a brief moment, then wrapped a tentative arm around Feemor's shoulders.

"I believe we were done," Mace said. "I trust you have things in hand, Knight Kenobi?"

Kenobi swallowed and cleared his throat. "Ah, yes." His arm tightened around Feemor's shoulders. "Wangui and I will make sure he gets some sleep, Master."

"And then get some yourself, Kenobi," Mace ordered, voice dry, because the new knight was also a little too well known for wandering the Temple at all hours.

Kenobi winced. "Yes, Master Windu," he agreed. "May the Force be with you."

"And with all of you," Mace returned, and reached out to end the communication at the same time as Kenobi.

Fett was gone when Mace turned to look for him, and he sighed, rubbed at his aching forehead, and decided to take his own advice and get some damn sleep.

END NOTES

Translations:
Mand'alor — title given to the leader of Mandalore; literally 'sole ruler'
Jetii — Jedi
Vode — siblings
Chakaar — scumbag, petty criminal; literally 'grave robber'
Dar'jetii — Sith; literally 'no longer a Jedi'

Make a Brand New End series:

Start of Something Good chapters:
1- I Know It's Gonna Take Some Time || 2- I'm Gonna Say What I Need to Say
3- Oh But I'm Starting to Believe

Series Masterpost

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